Weary Traveler: Finding God in the Storm

When Logan was discharged 2 ½ weeks ago, I wasn’t confident in our discharge—but I was exhausted and needed to be home. I missed my best friend. These last few months have really taken their toll on all of us. Being in the hospital is isolating and lonely, especially being so far from home.

Last week, we met with his new GI doctor at CHOP who had followed us inpatient as Logan was rapidly declining. I knew deep inside we were likely headed for readmission within the week unless we could find a magic fix to control his nausea and vomiting, get his pain under control, and regain traction on hydration and nutritional intake.

At this point, he was stopping his G-Tube feeds most days due to discomfort. He was throwing up daily. He was missing feeds and barely able to get out of bed. He was exhausted and sleeping most days 17+ hours, and when he was awake, he was absolutely miserable.

We left the appointment with a likely ineffective medication cocktail and a conversation about readmission to titrate a higher-level medication that required cardiac monitoring due to the risk of prolonged QT and interactions.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you this stressed me out—but it did. It was another medication that required admission and carried a higher risk of complications. We’ve had enough complications. And poly-pharmacy is my least favorite thing. I hid how overwhelmed it made me. Back in November, Logan was on just three medications. He was thriving. Now? It feels like our world has imploded.

Since the event at Nemours, he’s had so many medication changes I can barely keep up. Now, we’re on more meds than ever before. I hate it.

🌩️ When Hope and Hurt Collide

As the weekend progressed, the medications didn’t help—as anticipated. By early week, I knew the scales were tipping and not in our favor. I cried on Monday knowing the inevitable was possible.

That same night, we started something new—our 40/40 Challenge. Andrew and I decided we’d do this challenge as a family. We committed to walk 40 miles in 40 days and read through the book of John together. A way to encourage Logan to walk and push beyond his pain. A way to bring our family together at the center of what GOD wanted to show us. A commitment to intentional time in the Word.

That first night, storms rolled through—literally. Thunder shook the house. Lightning flashed outside as we opened in prayer and began to read. It felt symbolic of the months we’ve been living in chaos. It was ironic, actually.

As we read the first 17 verses of John, we each picked up on something different. But one common thread stood out: John’s humility. He didn’t need titles or credentials to testify to the light of Christ. He simply lived to bring others to Jesus.

🌅 Which Window Will You Look Through?

As the storm passed, Logan looked up and noticed the 2 windows in our room—one still dark and stormy, and the other glowing pink and bright. He said something I’ll never forget:

“It’s like I can choose which window I look out and focus on.”

That moment was holy. It was an opportunity to shift perspective—to see that even when there’s a storm raging in your body or your life, you can choose your focus. He could choose his focus.

But part of that shift came with honest struggle. Logan said something that broke my heart:

“I know without a shadow of a doubt that God could fix me in a second—but He hasn’t. And I wrestle with what that means for my purpose.”

That night, as we closed in prayer and prayed over Logan and our family, my heart was excited for what the next 40 days might hold.

But then...

🌙 A 2AM Wake-Up Call

At 2 a.m., Logan woke me up in tears. After our Bible study, dark thoughts had filled his mind. He was crying and didn’t want to wake us. The enemy was on full attack.

While on the phone with his girlfriend, she encouraged him to close his eyes and open the Bible. Eyes shut, he landed in Colossians—specifically:

“To this end I strenuously contend with all the energy Christ so powerfully works in me.”
— Colossians 1:29 (NIV)

He didn’t fully understand the context, so he asked ChatGPT to help break it down (yes, really). What came back was this:

Paul is joyfully suffering and working hard to spread the message that Christ lives in believers—even among the Gentiles—and his goal is to help everyone become spiritually mature through God’s powerful help.

And what Logan saw in that moment was this:

Paul is suffering joyfully to minister to others through his testimony.
His (Logan’s) suffering has purpose—for God’s greater good—to inspire others and bring them to Jesus.

With tears streaming down his face, he had to wake me and tell me what happened. He was in awe—amazed that God would speak to him so clearly. First through the windows. Now through this verse.

He was starting to believe: There’s purpose in this pain.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
— Romans 8:28 (NIV)

🕯️ The Weight and the Wonder

Tuesday night, Addie joined our Bible study for the first time. She had missed the first night because she was leading a Bible study through Psalms with some youth group friends. Ironically, they were focused on Psalm 23.

By Wednesday, the heaviness of a pending admission filled our home. I was tired. Frustrated. Angry.

Angry that we had just started something beautiful. Angry that every time we gain an inch, the winds shift, the sails change, the water rises, and we get knocked off course again.

I hadn’t even unpacked from the last admission. I felt Logan’s anger. His heartbreak. And I took it all in. Absorbed it. I was drowning in the weight of it. My body was breaking. I could feel a panic attack coming on.

❄️ The Plunge

I knew I had to shift gears fast. Cold plunging was the fastest way I knew to regulate my nervous system.

I started my music and climbed into 40-degree water. The rush hit me. Panic set in. My body screamed. My tears flowed freely. I cried out to God and begged for peace.

As my body began to settle, I looked at my watch—exactly 2 minutes. I had found regulation.

The next 4 minutes I sat in stillness. I worshipped. I let go.

Later, sitting in the ER, I rewatched the video and finally heard the lyrics playing in the background:

“I surrender now / I give You everything…”
“Your goodness is running after me…”
“I will sing of the goodness of God.”

And then came the song that wrecked me:

Weary traveler
Beat down from the storms that you have weathered
Feels like this road just might go on forever
Carry on…

You keep on givin'
But every day this world just keeps on takin' 
Your tired heart is on the edge of breaking
Carry on…

Weary traveler. Restless soul
You were never meant to walk this road alone
It'll all be worth it so just hold on
Weary traveler, you won't be weary long.

 

💔 The Breaking and the Blessing

As I kissed Jax and Addie goodbye and climbed into the truck for CHOP, Jax followed me with tears in his eyes:

“What about our Bible study tonight? What about our mile? When will you be home?”

My heart broke again. It all felt so unfair.

On the drive, I thought about those 6 minutes in the plunge. The pause. What a gift. What grace. What mercy.

God met me there in the chaos.

The words that wouldn’t let go: Weary traveler.

How much that phrase echoed in my spirit.

You were never meant to walk this road alone… Just hold on.

🪾 Forty Years in the Wilderness

Here’s the truth: this season has brought me to the edge. And in that edge, I’ve realized something hard.

I’ve spent 40 years depending on myself.

Because I had to. I couldn’t count on the people who should have protected me—my parents. I learned to navigate pain, betrayal, abuse, and abandonment all on my own. I learned survival. I worked hard. I stayed in black and white. I didn’t expect help. I only trusted me.

Because self-reliance felt safe.

But God... He’s stripping that away.
He’s refining me. Preparing me.
Breaking what can’t come into this next season.
Breaking generational curses. Rebuilding a new kind of legacy.

One that shows our kids what true wealth really is.

Not control. Not hustle. Not fear.

But:

• Trust when it makes no sense

• Belief in exhaustion

• Worship in the wilderness

He is preparing Andrew and me to walk into the life He’s always intended—One marked not by control but by calling. Not by fear but by faith. Not by striving but by surrender.

“Someday soon, we’re gonna make it home.”

✨ To Be Continued…

If you’ve felt like a weary traveler lately, you are not alone.

We are weary travelers—but we will not be weary long.
We are held. Even in this.
He is still good.

To the ones in the fire: Hold on.
Healing will come.
And HE will carry you through.